The plump woman unlocked and opened the door. Sebastian sat on a stone bench in the back of a tiny room lit only by a small, high-set window. I had to stoop to enter, and once inside, I could not straighten to my full six- foot height. Sebastian was as tall as I. He started to stand up, but I gestured him to remain seated.
The young man did not look well. His face was pasty, his breathing shallow. There was plenty of air in the room, if a bit musty; the window was propped open to let in a breeze and hint of spring rain.
The woman did not close the door. She stood in the yard, arms folded, as though she were a sentry. The prisoner would have to go through her, her stance said, if he wanted to escape.
Sebastian may have wanted to escape, but he looked in no condition to do so. He hunkered on the bench, hugging himself.
I looked pointedly at the woman, and she looked back at me, hands on hips. I pulled the door shut, closing it in her face.
She never moved. I imagined her outside facing the closed door, hands on hips, waiting for me to open it again.
I turned to Sebastian. 'Are you well?'
'Captain.' Sebastian spoke in a low voice, his Romany vowels slurring, 'I cannot stay here.'
'Well, you will have to at least until after the inquest,' I said. 'I warn you, you might have to face the magistrate after that. Rutledge has taken against you.'
He looked up at me, his face gray. 'I will see the magistrate, I will face him, I am not afraid. But I cannot stay here. I cannot breathe. The walls… ' He gestured with a shaking hand.
I thought I understood. This was more than a Romany man's dislike of being indoors. Sebastian must have an unnatural fear of enclosed places. I had met a man in the army with such a malady, a lieutenant. The man was brave-hearted in battle and could rally his troops like the best general, but put him in a cellar and he developed cold sweats and clawed his way to the door.
'I am willing to help you get out,' I said. Sebastian looked up at me with dark-eyed hope, like a seasick man who believes shore might be near. 'But you must tell me exactly what you did last night. I need the entire truth.'
Hope receded. 'I cannot.'
I sat on the bench beside him, tired of bending my head. I rested my hands on my walking stick. 'Did you meet with Miss Rutledge?'
He looked alarmed. He avoided my eye, bowed his head. 'I will not speak.'
'Do not be so pig headed,' I said. 'Dying nobly on the gallows to spare your lady's name would be foolish and help no one.'
Sebastian stared at me in amazement. Suffering for love was noble-at least that was fashion these days- especially when that love was forbidden.
I softened. 'I know, Sebastian. When I was young, I too fell in love where I should not have.'
He looked skeptical, but I spoke the truth. My father had expected me to marry a rich man's daughter. I instead had fallen in love with a young woman of little fortune. What's more, I'd eloped with her, with the help of my friend and mentor, Aloysius Brandon.
Carlotta had regretted marrying me almost right away. One day, three years into our marriage, she'd left me. I had not seen her since. James Denis knew where she was. Last summer, he had offered the information of her whereabouts to me. I had refused, knowing that he had only offered to make me obligated to him. He'd told me once that he would win the enmity between us by making me owe him too many favors to oppose him.
Often in the night when I lay awake, fighting off melancholia, I was very tempted to go to Denis and beg for the information. I wanted to find her. I wanted to look into Carlotta's pretty eyes and demand, Why did you leave me?
If I found my wife, I'd also discover what had become of my daughter. Was Gabriella still alive? Was she happy? Would she remember me?
I had not yet succumbed to the temptation to sell myself to Denis, but I was coming close.
'Tell me,' I said to Sebastian, my tone severe, 'everything you did from the time I saw you yesterday afternoon until now. The entire truth. The sooner you tell me, the sooner you can leave this room.'
Sebastian shuddered. His face shone with perspiration. 'Very well.' He wet his lips. 'I did my duties in the stable as usual. I cleaned the tack and brushed the horses, then helped feed and bed them down for the night. No different from any other day.'
'And Middleton? What did he do?'
'He asked about you.'
I stopped. 'Did he?'
'Asked about you and why you were here. Did you know him?'
'I'd met him once,' I said carefully. 'In London. What was he like?'
Sebastian shrugged. 'Kept to himself. Came to Sudbury to enjoy the country life, he said. But he didn't much like dirtying his hands. He left the messy work to us. I didn't mind because I like moving among the beasts. He knew that I could handle a horse, no matter what, better than any of his other lads.'
'Did Middleton speak much to anyone else at Sudbury?' I asked. 'Rutledge? The pupils?'
Sebastian shook his head. 'He watched me and the other stable hands whenever we saddled horses for the students. Sometimes he'd talk to the boys while they waited, but not much. Only one of the tutors rides much, Tunbridge, I think his name is. And Miss Rutledge rides.'
His eyes took on a soft look. I imagined that was how he and Belinda had met, Sebastian saddling her mount and her looking on, young and pretty in her riding habit.
'What happened last night after you finished your duties?' I persisted.
Sebastian took a breath. 'Mr. Middleton said he was going into Sudbury to the pub, and not to look for him until late. I was glad, because Miss Rutledge sent word that she wanted to see me. I went to her.'
So Belinda had indicated. 'You are a pair of brave fools,' I said. 'What time was this?'
He thought. Sebastian would probably not own a watch and likely could not read the time anyway. 'The clock at the school struck ten, I think. I walked to the canal and down the towpath. Miss Rutledge had told me to meet her around the first bend past Lower Sudbury Lock. There is a stand of trees there that would screen us from the school.'
'How did she send the message? Did she write you?'
He shook his head. 'I cannot read. She sent her maidservant.'
'Unfortunate,' I said.
He looked indignant. 'Bridgett loves Miss Rutledge.'
'Perhaps, but even if Bridgett would die for her mistress, tongues slip. But go on. Did Miss Rutledge meet you as planned?'
He nodded. 'She came late. The clock had struck the half hour before I saw her. Bridgett came with her. I was glad. I would not have liked her out in the dark, alone.'
'In that case, you should have sent word for her to stay home.'
His eyes were anguished. 'But I craved to see her. Her father guards her well.'
In a school filled with boys and a handsome young Romany in the stables I could hardly blame Rutledge. I reflected, though, that in this instance, he'd not guarded her sternly enough.
'So, she arrived, and you met her. What did you speak about?'
He smiled. His smile was dark and roguish, and had my daughter lived with me, I'd certainly set a guard on her day and night. 'In truth, sir, little. My heart was full, I couldn't think of what to say.'
I would have accused him of reading too much poetry had he been able to read at all. 'I must ask you directly, are you and she lovers?'
He looked almost shocked. 'No, sir. She is an innocent. I would never touch her, never.'
The pair seemed too romantic to be true. I had been a bit romantic about Carlotta, but my craving for her had not been merely in my heart. I'd proposed to her in a Norfolk meadow; when she'd said yes, I'd laid her down and made sweet love to her then and there.
But then I'd married her right away. Our families had been furious, but society had accepted the marriage- we'd been of similar background and class, and our alliance was no worse than any other. Sebastian and Belinda, on the other hand, would be thoroughly condemned. Belinda would be ruined, received nowhere, her family could shun
